


Good Omens

by DiYunho



Category: DCU, Good Omens (TV), Suicide Squad (2016), The Joker - Fandom, The Joker Jared Leto - Fandom, The Joker dcu - Fandom, joker DCU
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Deal with a Devil, Demon, Denial of Feelings, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotions, F/M, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Forgiveness, Funny, Funny situations, Gotham City - Freeform, Hilarious, Humor, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Joker - Freeform, Joker Jared Leto - Freeform, Love, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, Neutrals, Pinky promise, Power Couple, Romantic Fluff, Temptation, The Joker dcu, True Love, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Women In Power, angel - Freeform, crowley - Freeform, emotional mess, ineffable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29011254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiYunho/pseuds/DiYunho
Summary: Aziraphale has been flirting with the idea of opening a new bookshop in Gotham and luckily enough Crowley was able to help him decide on the venue. Who owns the perfect spot ready to be sold for the right price? That’s pretty easy: the demon’s acquaintances - Joker and his girlfriend.
Relationships: Joker (DCU) & You, Joker (DCU)/Reader, Joker/ Girlfriend, Joker/Y/N, The Joker/Reader, The Joker/You
Kudos: 5





	Good Omens

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow me on Tumblr and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

“I don’t know about this,” Aziraphale crinkles his nose, contemplating the surroundings leading towards today’s meeting place: one of the fancy restaurants owned by The King of Gotham. “It’s a splendid day, why don’t we just take a walk?”

Crowley rolls his eyes behind the black sunglasses, explaining for the millionth time:

“As we talked before, he’s willing to sell the property which might I remind you, it’s ideal for your bookshop. I don’t think you have a choice.”

“Yes… but, but Mister Joker is not… you know… a good person. I’m not sure I’m comfortable doing business with such a bad apple. Pun not intended!” he immediately corrects his sentence.

The demon sights, quickly throwing in variables meant to help stir the conversation:

“This restaurant makes the best stake bites you ever tasted, best tea and crumpets are imported from England. They sell the best wine, best champagne plus the scrumptious ice cream is to die for. Aren’t you interested in trying them?”

“How dare you temp me with such frivolous nitty-zitties, dark creature of the abyss??!!” Aziraphale’s stern voice has absolutely no effect on Crowley.

“Angel, do you want the building or not?” he calmly scratches his chin.

“Please do lead the way,” a very polite Principality quickly switches mood while strutting alongside his companion.

“They closed the grounds to the public today,” the demon rambles on, swiftly knocking at the front door: six fast beats followed by two slow taps.

One of J’s henchmen opens the entrance so that the guests can squeeze in undetected.

“Howdy,” Crowley puckers his lips and sniffs the air, definitely recognizing his favorite meal.

“Mister C, boss is not here yet.”

“The kitchen is opened, correct?” the sassy devil makes it obvious he has no patience for details.

“Certainly, they are already cooking the usual for you.”

“Perfect, me and my friend will take 2 portions with a side of saffron rice and three bottles of champagne.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” the angel gushes. “Champagne makes me all nickytty-pickytty,” he softly giggles at the thought as he accompanies the small party in the main room.

“Nickytty-pickitty?” Crowley huffs. “Make it four bottles!” he urges, dropping on a chair at the nearest table adorned with warm, steamy bread sticks.

“Of course sir,” the obliging goon rushes to convey the instructions designated for the kitchen stuff.

Aziraphale samples the baked goodies, examining the posh decorations around him.

“Deee-licious,” he chews on the morsels and sees that Crowley didn’t touch the appetizer. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I shall. Can you miracle some butter?” the spoiled demon yawns.

“Why don’t you order it?”

“It’ll take seconds; I want it now.”

The angel takes a deep breath, touches the table cloth and the requested item materializes by the bread sticks basket.

Crowley pouts.

“What’s wrong?” the clueless Aziraphale inquires.

“I like Irish butter.”

“Seriously now!” the Guardian of Eden scoffs at his fussy escort.

“Pleeeease?” the demon’s bored puppy gaze leaves no room for hesitation: the Principality snaps his fingers in order to fulfill the wish.

“Thank you, best friend,” Crowley dips his treat into the gooey container pretending not to notice the innocent smile flourishing on the angel’s face.

“Dear Lord!” Aziraphale’s sudden exclamation makes the devil search his surroundings.

“I wasn’t aware we’ll have extra divine company. Oh!” Crowley realizes why the celestial being is appalled: The Clown made it to the meeting and he’s barking orders to his crew in a frenzy. “That’s him, that’s The Joker.”

“The aura he has!!” Aziraphale touches his chest, uneasy at the sight of a crazed King of Gotham chaperoned by his woman.

“He sure steals the show, doesn’t he? One of our most promising prodigies,” the demon informs. “There’s gossip they want to make him commander of the 13th legion after he kicks the bucket.”

“You don’t say!” a mixture of disgust and doomsday feeling prompts the angel to continue: “What about the woman?... … Very strange, I can’t discern her aura.”

“She’s Neutral.”

“Neutrals are a myth! They don’t exist!”

Crowley doesn’t have time to reply because Y/N and The Joker approach while the two gentlemen get up from their sits in a hurry.

“You’ll see,” the devilish smirk offers more incertitude than clarification.

“Hey Crowley,” the grouchy Joker greets.

“Mister C, where have you been?” you reach over to him and you both touch your index fingers similar to Michelangelo’s creation painting.

“I’ve been busy.”

“How’s London?” a spirited Y/N asks.

“Meh… Rainy. Sunny here and there,” the demon cracks his neck and Aziraphale is more intrigued than ever: the index fingers touching Michelangelo style is Crowley’s signature pinky promise. What kind of pinky promise could a human possibly have with a demon?!

The angel doesn’t know yet, but it’s not very complicated: one year ago, Crowley was visiting and prepared to relax into the jacuzzi with you and J. You wanted to do a little experiment and planted a drop of holy water in the tub just to discover if it would have any effect of him. Yeah… the devil was fortunate he didn’t jump in: he first immersed his left toes in the foamy liquid and BAM! They instantly vanished. You felt super crappy about it thus you nurture him for about a week until his toes grew back. As a result of your unauthorized curiosity, Crowley made you promise you won’t do it again…Thus the pinky promise renaissance style each time you encounter. 

“Is he the buyer?” J moves straight to the main topic.

“Yes, this is Aziraphale,” Crowley takes off his sunglasses only to reveal his eerie, serpent irises. “Don’t worry, they know,” he pinches the angel’s hand.

“And you didn’t bother to tell me?!” the Guardian mutters through his clench teeth while maintaining a courteous demeanor.

“That’s such a cool name, Mister A,” you praise the moniker and have more questions: “What type of books are you going to sell? Old, new?”

“Mostly old, rare gems. I have an ineffable plan to transform…”

“Do you have the money? The price tag is 200 thousand dollars,” The Joker cuts him off and doesn’t bother to wait for an answer because he’s rude to start with. “Crowley, does he have the money?”

“Pardon me, I do have the money,” Aziraphale intervenes whilst J is intensely glaring at the demon and won’t accept a response from someone else.

”Of course he does,” the devil smacks his lips. “He can pay double, even triple!”

“Fine, I’ll take triple!” The King of Gotham decides.

The angel is internally screaming, his eyes burning holes through Crowley.

Treacherous snake! he thinks and the demon nonchalantly guesses his friend is unhappy.

“What?... I’m helping you negotiate.”

“Can I trust him, C.?” J growls.

“Yes, you can trust him 100%. Although… he was entrusted with a flaming sword once and lost it.”

The angel is wiggling in his chair, horrified Crowley brought that up in front of the humans.

“You lost a flaming sword?!” you interrogate the poor sod as the waiters bring in the food and drinks for everybody at the table.

“Well, ‘lost’ wouldn’t be the correct term to describe it; I gave it to a person that needed it.”

“Awww, that’s so sweet!” you touch your heart, totally moved by his statement.

“Why, thank you,” Aziraphale chuckles at your genuine praise. “I presumably…”

“Me, if I’d had a flaming sword,” you interrupt, “I would slash and hack everything in my way!!!”

“…Hm?” the angel tries to keep his composure at the evident change in mood.

“I would cut, eviscerate and stab every single man or woman trying to get to my boyfriend!” you swipe the plates off the table and they fly all over the floor, smashing into pieces. “I would split Batsy in two if he tries to catch my J!!” you stand up and punch the bottles of champagne; they shatter against the wall to Crowley’s dismay.

“Oh!” the angel blurs out, taken aback by the screaming woman.

“Nobody fucks with my boyfriend!!” you continue your speech and both the angel and the demon are completely smitten by such pathos: Y/N keeps gesturing and striking objects while declaring her love for The Joker.

The only present individual not giving a damn is actually The Clown, too busy texting about another lucrative deal he has in the works.

“J,” you address him, “if you’d ask for my flaming sword, I’d give it to you!!!!” the passionate Y/N articulates.

“That’s nice, Pumpkin,” the apathic green haired menace continues to text without paying attention.

The guests watch your ardor slowly crumbling to pieces until you repose your seat, disappointed your man is ignoring you again.

Aziraphale opens his mouth to initiate dialogue when it’s clear something is wrong: you stare at your plate, the only one left on the table containing a foul atrocity.

“Is this…vinaigrette????!!! I asked for Ranch dressing!!! RANCH!!!! I hate vinaigrette!!!!” you raise your voce and grab The Joker gun from the holster, shooting towards the kitchen. The chef and staff dodge behind the counters as the angel is panicking.

Still, what’s with Crowley’s satisfied grin?...

“Did you change her salad dressing??!” he whispers and the demon deflating like a balloon is more than an actual confession. “Crowley, no!!!” Aziraphale scolds as he discretely snaps his fingers. “Umm… excuse me miss. I believe that’s Ranch dressing,” he candidly points at your food.

“Huh?” you turn around to analyze the contents and clearly you were mistaken before since there’s no sign of vinaigrette. “My bad!!!!” you shout. “You each get 5,000 for being great sports!”

“Thank you, Y/N!” the employees express their gratitude, wondering if the storm has really passed. With J’s girl, you never know… she’s unpredictable.

As a result, they spend a couple more minutes hiding just in case.

“Pumpkin, you’re giving me a headache!” The Joker complaints and finally is able to open the link he struggled to gain access to.

You don’t react but the unearthly clients can read between the lines: the woman’s vibrant attitude sunk to the lowest level.

“You guys you’ll savor this on TV shortly as breaking news,” J arrogantly boasts. “I’m going to blow up Gotham Bank! It’s rigged and ready to go!”

Aziraphale is petrified while Crowley can’t wait to witness the explosion; The Clown’s finger almost touches the red button on the screen but Y/N snatches the phone.

“You can’t do that, J!”

“Why not?” he sulks at your disapproval.

“Today is bring your kid to work day!”

“Pfftt, was that today?” The Joker frowns. “That’s just stupid! Why do parents have to bring their offsprings to work?”

“Magnificent,” the angel exhales, relieved catastrophe was averted. “She can actually influence him,” he mumbles in a low tone.

“Don’t be upset, ok?” you kiss J and the evil sparkle in your eyes makes Aziraphale nervous at the shift. “I have a surprise for you, babe.”

“What surprise?” the crabby boyfriend grumbles.

“Guess who’s nearby attending a summit about how to improve crime fighting in town?”

“Who?”

“Commissar Gordon!” you wink. “Guess who send our men to place a bomb in his car?”

“Kitten, you did not!” the grotesque smile on The Joker’s face makes Aziraphale cringe.

“I did! Press the screen on my phone. I have a drone flying over the spot to record his reaction when he comes out of the conference and sees the damage! The images will be sent straight to your cell, this way you can enjoy them over and over again.”

“Awesome!” the impatient lunatic takes your phone and touches the screen. A powerful blast is heard in the distance as the angel cannot stay silent:

“This is preposterous! I forbid it!”

“And why should I care?” J counterattacks. “I don’t listen to weirdos dresses in creepy outfits anyway.”

“I beg your pardon?!” The Principality can’t hold in the remark.

“There’s nothing wrong with his suit,” you immediately defend Crowley’s friend. “It’s very elegant and he looks like a real gentleman!”

“Opposed to what, huh? Me??! I don’t look like a gentleman, is that what you’re trying to say??!” J accuses you of nonsense because he’s missing a few screws and his brain can’t process shit normally.

“Ugghh,” the demon stretches on his chair, debating on his next move. “Enough!” he stops time and Aziraphale is overwhelmed by his experience so far. “First, I believe we both agree she should stay away from swords. Second, I have a proposal.”

“A proposal?”

“Yes. Here’s the thing: the next words he’s going to utter will be so hurtful; frankly the last drop for her. She’s going to leave him; she’s been thinking about it.”

“None of our concern,” the angel gets in defensive mode because he can sense what Crowley is aiming at.

“Maybe not, yet you should consider the facts: a man like him can’t possibly hope for a better partner than a Neutral. You’re aware I’m right: she does a good deed and compensates it with a bad one and vice versa. At the end of the day her ledger is always perfectly balanced. If they stay together, some of her neutrality might rub off on him. Which translates into countless lives might be saved. Miracle him say the stuff she wants to hear and today’s outcome will be different.”

“This is blackmail!!”

“It’s in my nature; that’s what I do,” Crowley lifts his shoulder up, unfazed at the allegation.

“Well…” Aziraphale argues. “She is a Neutral, I suppose they are not a myth.”

“Nope, and you should be grateful she didn’t trick you into her if you show me yours I’ll show you mine little game.”

“Good gracious, Crowley! That sounds indecent!”

“She’s super sneaky. The Joker was gone on business and we played poker; it was a boring evening so she had an interesting suggestion: if I show her my wings she’ll show me her push up bra.”

“And?” the angel gulps.

”I’ve never seen a push-up bra before, I was curious!”

“Anthony Crowley!!!” The Guardian shouts. “Do you go around flaunting your wings to everyone???!!”

“In over 6000 years you never called me by my first name; does it mean I’m in big trouble?”

“Obviously!”

“Nifty, I love getting in trouble,” the devil snickers. “So we have a deal? You’ll miracle him saying it?” and doesn’t wait for a reply. He releases his grip on time and J continues his tirade towards Y/N:

“You know what, Pumpkin??!”

“… … What…?” you brace yourself for the worst.

“I love you.”

Your bottom lip quivers, tears clouding your vision since you didn’t expect the outpoured declaration you’ve wanted to hear for the past two years.

The Joker moves his jaw sideways, intrigued he pronounced such rubbish. It’s almost as his mouth… moved by itself! Impossible aberration!

“Why are you crying?” J quizzes and you can’t stop bawling your eyes out. “C., it seems we have a situation; make sure your pal pays me!” J stands up from the table while you cling to his arm being a complete emotional mess. Y/N is unable to speak but she waves at guests before departing instead of a formal goodbye.

The Joker and his girl are gone, thus Crowley uses his powers in order to summon back the food and drinks destroyed earlier before the people working at the restaurant notice the carnage.

“That was a trip!” Aziraphale concludes after the insane meeting.

“Wasn’t it? Congratulations on the bookstore! Shall we?” the demon urges. “It’s getting cold and trust me, you don’t want to waste this heavenly lunch. Pun not intended,” he mentions for the heck of it.

“Mmmm, this is soooo good,” Aziraphale savors the exquisite flavors and lifts his glass up for Crowley to pour champagne. “Thank you,” he sips on the bubbly drink, distracted by the popping sounds.

“Are you feeling nickytty-pickitty yet?”

The angel shakes his head in denial and the devil laughs, amused:

“Well, that’s why we have 4 bottles! Cheers!”

The glasses clink, Crowley laying out more ideas for the rest of the day.

“After we’re done eating, what do you say we take a stroll to see the building? It’s about 6 blocks away.”

“I’d like that; it’s a very good plan,” Aziraphale admits while drinking more champagne.

It is indeed. 

Quite… ineffable.


End file.
